


sparks fly

by assortedwords



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Festivals, Fluff, M/M, Post-Graduation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assortedwords/pseuds/assortedwords
Summary: “The fireworks are up there,” Kuro tells him matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you’re gonna get much outta looking at them on my face.”It’s hard to hear over the crackle of fireworks, but Kuro thinks he canseeHasumi mutter ahow incorrigiblebefore leaning in, and then there aren’t any words at all.





	sparks fly

**Author's Note:**

> Murphy’s law is a proverb that states “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

The air doesn’t hit Kuro in a rush when he steps out of the bathroom; it sort of melts into him, instantly warming the air left over from his shower. Despite it being summer, it isn’t _too_ sticky or hot outside—maybe the heat relents along with the sunset, settling down for the day. Kuro scrubs a towel through his still-wet hair and wanders into the living room, where Akako’s sitting on a chair with one foot up, talking on the phone. She looks up at him and curls away in typical little sister style, not wanting him to hear.

Kuro takes his usual position in front of the TV, taking care to keep the volume on low so she can still hear her friend. That means _he_ can hear her too, though. So much for hiding.

“Yeah, just text me when it’s cool,” she’s saying. “A nerd like you can’t skip his duties, after all.”

A pause, and she snorts. “Jeez.” She lowers her voice, probably noticing she can be heard over the TV. Kuro strains to hear as subtly as he can. Sure, it’s bad manners to eavesdrop, but he’s curious and overprotective, damn it.

It’s a futile effort, winning him only a bunch of muffled whispers. It’s a boy, he knows that much. Has Akako ever mentioned guy friends? There’s been a few, he… _thinks_ , but she mostly hangs out with her girlfriends… He’s still wondering over all the possibilities when she says goodbye, and ends the call.

Kuro can’t resist. “Who was that?”

He gets a chop to the head for that one. “None of yer business!”

“Fine.” Kuro gives in grudgingly. He knows pushing it won’t get him anywhere, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Wanna watch TV with me?”

Akako pauses, and plops herself down next to him. Kuro sits back and they watch the variety show in comfortable silence.

…Or at least Kuro _thought_ it was comfortable. Pretty soon he realizes she’s still holding her phone, and she keeps _fidgeting_ with it. After a few minutes of listening to her feet tapping or watching her poke at the bunnies on her phone cover from the corner of his eye, Kuro turns to her with a weird mix of suspicion and concern. She’s not usually this antsy, after all. “Did somethin’ happen?”

“What?!” she jolts visibly. When she notices Kuro’s eyes narrow she sits up and looks up at him defiantly. “No.”

“You think you can get by me with that?” Kuro folds his arms and stares her down, but she doesn’t flinch this time. “Spill.”

“There isn’t anything!” She chops him on the head again, huffing. “But _anyway_ , um—aniki, you know how there’s a festival tonight?”

Kuro shoots her a look that clearly says _we’re not done talking_ , but lets her go for now. “What, you wanna go?”

“No, I was just thinking,” Akako flounders, probably completely aware she’s not fooling anyone, “you still have your yukata, right? It fits and stuff?”

Something is _definitely_ up. Kuro supposes it’s a good thing that Akako is a terrible liar; it means she hasn’t been doing it much. “’m pretty sure it does. Do you want it? We can get you a new one if you want, you know. Or I could make something.”

“No, uh…” she looks around, clearly floundering, and caves. “Okay, fine, just—wear your yukata, you’ll see why later!”

“What did you plan?”

Akako throws her hands up. “Nothin’! Wellll—nothin’ _bad,_ okay? Just put it on, trust me!”

That’s a loaded request, and he squints at her to let her know. Kuro trusts his little sister to do many things, like be polite when she’s at her friends’ houses and effortlessly be the most lovable person he knows, but at the end of the day she’s a baby to him, and it’s hard to trust _babies_ with surprise plans.

He’s about to tell her so too when the doorbell rings, and Akako jumps up from the sofa so quickly she might as well have springs attached to her feet. She zooms to the door and flings it open furiously, showering the visitor with a string of hissed accusations. Kuro follows her at a much calmer pace.

“You were supposed to text first! I’m never doing this again, just so you know!”

“There was no point in texting when I was already so close by—and you seem to forget this was _your_ idea,” the visitor points out, a tad irritably. They sound familiar... Kuro reaches the door, standing just behind Akako, and blinks.

“Hasumi?”

“Kiryu.” Hasumi answers, looking at him with that unreadable expression of his. That would be perfectly acceptable if not for the fact that Hasumi and Akako had apparently been plotting something behind his back and Kuro _still has no idea what it is_.

“What are you doing on my doorstep?” Kuro asks. This isn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened to him. He can roll with it.  “Actually, when did you two even get each other’s _numbers_?”

“He was over for dinner last week, remember?” Akako says from behind Kuro, making him whirl around in soundless surprise. When did she—

She shoves a mess of fabric into his arms. Dimly, Kuro realizes it’s his yukata. “Also, he’s here to take you to the festival.”

Kuro turns around to stare at Hasumi, noticing for the first time that he was, in fact, also in a yukata.

“Uh?” Kuro says intelligently.

For all of his usual bravado Hasumi seems awkward too, shifting his feet a little. He refuses to meet Kuro’s eyes.

 _“Gross,”_ Akako says with feeling.

And then they’re being shoved out the door. Akako slams the door shut in one quick movement, not giving them any time to process. “Don’t come home until it’s over, aniki!”

“What—?!” Hasumi jolts at the noise, clearly not used to dramatic middle schoolers. Kuro considers cutting down on the trashy TV dramas he watches in front of Akako. They’ve definitely influenced her a little too much.

Kuro’s still in his indoor slippers, his hair is still damp, and he still has a crumpled yukata in his arms. This is apparently just what his life is now. With an internal sigh, he raps at the door with his free hand. “Let us back in so I can change, at least. And it’s bad manners to make your guest stand outside, you know?”

“Oh. Uh.” Akako opens the door, embarrassed. Her gaze slides sheepishly from Kuro to Hasumi, then to the side. “Sorry.”

“S’ fine.”

* * *

  


A little while later they’re on the train, travelling towards the festival. When they exit they pass by people in yukata, geta slapping against their heels and chatting animatedly. Kuro looks back as they burst into laughter.

“Hey, Hasumi.”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you two come up with this?” Kuro doesn’t really get it. Like him, Akako’s kind of awkward with people, so it’s weird that she’d voluntarily reach out to Hasumi without Kuro’s input. It’s not like the two of them have much in common, after all. And it was weirder that she’d make _Kuro_ go to the festival. Kuro knows she’d been worried about his social life before, but that had improved, hadn’t it? Was she still worried? “You said it was her idea.”

Hasumi looks surprised—a beat passes, and his expression slips into a smile as he…realizes something, probably? Hell if Kuro knows. “I suppose I can understand why she wouldn’t have told you,” he muses. “It’s not something that people usually say, after all.” Kuro watches him chuckle to himself quietly and look up to face him again, voice returning to normal volume. “All I can tell you is that she doesn’t have bad intentions. You should ask her yourself; it’s not my story to tell.”

Ah, jeez. Akako probably won’t give him a straight answer, but still, Hasumi’s right. “Fine.” Kuro sighs out loud.

* * *

The festival is already in full swing when they arrive, chatter and shouts in the air. Kids run this way and that, darting in and out of crowds in zigzags. Friends travel in little groups cracking jokes, and couples stroll by leisurely, giggling. It’s lively, and Kuro’s glad he came.

Hasumi looks around the place too, interest sparking in his eyes suddenly. “Do you mind if we start with that stall?”

The stalls give off individual warm glows against the dimming summer sky, banners proudly boasting all kinds of activities or things to buy. Kuro looks in the direction Hasumi’s gesturing towards. “The shooting game? Yeah, sure.”

Hasumi doesn’t waste any time. He starts making his way towards it as soon as Kuro agrees, counting out coins for the stall owner. The rack of prizes hangs on the wall a little way next to the counter, featuring a bunch of toys. 

“I haven’t been to one of these in a while,” Hasumi tells Kuro as he lifts the plastic gun. Kuro stays well out of his way. "I'm out of practice."

"You used to go to these places a lot?" Kuro asks, surprised. Somehow the image of a pint-sized boss gunning down targets is really fucking funny. Every story he's heard about Hasumi says that he was way worse as a kid than he is now, so he'd probably be scowling extra hard, and maybe lecturing some poor soul viciously while holding a plastic gun in his chubby little hands.

While being three feet tall. Kuro doesn't quite manage to stifle a snort.

"My family _did_ organize quite a few stalls when I was—what're you laughing at?" Hasumi shoots him a suspicious look as he presses the foam pellets in.

"Nothin'." Kuro smooths out his expression and blinks at him innocently. "Anyway, Hasumi—this kinda stuff's just for fun, isn't it? The worst that can happen is ya lose a couple hundred yen."

"You underestimate Murphy's law," Hasumi replies vaguely, half-distracted as he turns his attention to the stuffed animal display in front of him.

Kuro doesn't bother asking what the hell that is, seeing Hasumi go completely silent now as his eyes focus on the display in front of him. He holds the gun with two hands, his eyes intense; Kuro almost sees a target circle zeroing in on the prizes. The stall owner raises an eyebrow at the overly-serious glasses kid that's playing their stall like his life depends on it.

 _I know,_ Kuro tells them in his head. _I used to think like that too. But see—he ain't like that just for show. That guy's pretty amazing, you know?_

_Fwip —— fwump!_

In one seamless movement, the pellet flies forward and hits a soft yellow toy, toppling it over. Kuro's surprised at the choice.

The stall owner looks surprised for a different reason, and starts to smile a little. _Whaddya I tell you,_ Kuro says.

"Nice job, you hit it dead on. Two more tries." The stall owner gestures for Hasumi to go on. He nods, and loads another pellet.

He hits two more easily. Kuro's a little proud, a little smug—c’mon, it’s Hasumi. What else did he expect? Hasumi looks at him with a puzzled face as the stall owner disappears to get the stuffed animals.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothin’ much." Kuro answers, grinning. "You're pretty good at this, you know. That’s Akatsuki’s ex-leader for ya, huh?"

"Idiot." Hasumi narrows his eyes in true tsun fashion. "It wasn't anything special."

"Your prizes." The stall owner dumps the three toys and pellets on the counter. "Thanks for playing, come again." A girl at another stall calls out and they respond, excusing themself as they disappear again.

Hasumi picks up the stuffed lion and holds it out to Kuro. "This is for you."

"Oh." It's not like Kuro didn't see this coming after Hasumi knocked it down, but it still comes as a surprise. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful n' all," he says, taking it into his arms, "but shouldn't this be a present for my sis or somethin'? I don't really suit cute stuff like this."

"You suit a gift from your boyfriend, I presume," Hasumi says without missing a beat, pushing his glasses up.

Kuro smiles, a flutter or two in his stomach. His cheeks are warming up too, he realizes. "I hope so."

"You do," Hasumi says curtly, and turns away to look at the stuffed turtle. This one definitely wasn't a surprise.

"Kanzaki's gonna love that." It’s adorable, with a little sewn smile and velvety fur, but Kuro’s gaze is drawn to the animal next to it. "I didn't know you liked bunnies."

"It's not for me." Hasumi gives it to him too. "This is the one I wanted to get for your sister, as thanks. I remembered her phone cover, so I assumed she liked them." He frowns. "I should've asked first, though. It was foolish of me to assume."

"Don’t worry, you guessed right." A warm feeling spreads through Kuro, but abruptly stops when he realizes something. "You don't have anything though."

"I don't need any."

Kuro looks at him. "Doesn't feel right if you're left out, y'know."

"It’s fine like this," Hasumi answers. He tucks the turtle neatly into a plastic bag from the stall and holds it open for Kuro, conversation finished.

Kuro puts his toys in and automatically takes the bag from him, because being the older sibling does things to you. And apparently so does being the younger, because Hasumi lets him carry it without a word.

"I'm gonna make you one when I get home, you know," Kuro tells him. Their hands bump as they walk down the road, sleeves brushing against the other’s.

"I said not to waste your time."

"Nah, it's not a waste. ‘Sides, your birthday's coming up, so I might as well get sewin'."

Hasumi gives him one of those looks he has, raised eyebrows and all. "Did you give up on surprise gifts this year?"

Ah, damn. Kuro laughs. "Didn't mean to, but I guess I have now."

Hasumi sighs at him in mock exasperation, and they keep going.

* * *

 

They wander around the festival aimlessly after that. Hasumi stops to look at masks, Kuro eyes up yukata designs, and they both give goldfish scooping a shot. (Hasumi breaks his net once or twice and Kuro spends most of his time swishing his around fruitlessly, but Hasumi wins by a margin.) Just as Hasumi lets his goldfish back into the plastic pool, a high-pitched stream of noise soars into the air.

Kuro looks at the sky. Colour rains over them as the noise fizzes, and Hasumi’s face lights up.

“The fireworks!” he says excitedly, like a little kid. A crowd has already gathered, _oohing_ and _aahing_ at the sight. People stop in their tracks in between games, stall owners and customers complimenting this year’s display. But for all Hasumi himself likes to talk as well, this time he stands and just watches quietly, completely enchanted.

Kuro, for his part, kind of forgets he’s supposed to be looking at the fireworks. Red, yellow and green cross over Hasumi’s face as he looks up into the sky.

By the time the last fireworks blast into the air, Hasumi’s not looking at them either. He grabs Kuro by the shoulders and spins him around to face him way too aggressively to be called romantic, or whatever it was he was going for.

“The fireworks are up there,” Kuro tells him matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you’re gonna get much outta looking at them on my face.”

It’s hard to hear over the crackle of fireworks, but Kuro thinks he can _see_ Hasumi mutter a _how incorrigible_ before leaning in, and then there aren’t any words at all.

* * *

 

By the time Kuro gets home his apartment is dark and quiet, the sound echoing as he locks the door. Akako’s probably asleep, he thinks, but he’ll check in on her anyway.

The plastic bag on his arm rustles as he pushes open the door. The room is dark as he had expected, but the lump on her bed stirs as he lets the dim moonlight into the room.

“Sorry,” Kuro whispers. “Did I wake ya?”  

He clearly did, but she doesn’t even yell at him for it. Akako sits up and rubs her eyes, apparently determined to stay awake for whatever reason. “Did you have fun?”

Oh. Did she want to wait up for him?

“Yeah.” Kuro’s usually always a little brighter around Akako, but that just makes him feel even more warm and fluffy. “I had the best time. Thank you.”

“Mmm. Good.” She’s so cute Kuro can’t help but reach in and give her a hug. She only protests halfheartedly before wrapping her arms around him too, almost falling asleep on his shoulder. This is definitely the best day.

“But…” Kuro hesitates, and tries his luck. “Why did you do it?”

Akako lets out a _hmph_ against the cotton of his yukata. “You happy or not?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“Then tha’s all that matters, issinit?” she yawns, and slides out of the hug back down on her pillow. “’m tired. Night.”

“Sleep well,” Kuro says, confused. He remembers to tuck the bunny next to her pillow before he leaves, and realizes he’d gotten an answer halfway out the door.

He probably looks stupid grinning at nothing in the dark, but who cares.

* * *

 

The next day, Akako stumbles into the living room when Kuro’s cooking breakfast. Her hair’s sticking out all over the place, but more importantly, she’s hugging the bunny even when she plops herself at the table.

“Your friend need a plate too?” Kuro asks, eyeing at her as he sets the table. Her face darkens.

Akako waits until he’s done, puts the bunny down carefully, and roundhouse kicks him in the gut.

Kuro’s still laughing when he texts Keito about it.

**Author's Note:**

> "does kuro have his hair down in this fic" if you want him to, then he does. Either Way Works.
> 
> * thank you to will + paige for beta’ing! aaAA  
> 
> * also shoutout to [kallie’s fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9973370/chapters/22285469) for the idea of baby kiryu calling keito a nerd, it’s the best thing.
> 
> speaking of baby kiryu, akako is written as 赤子! kuro means red man, so akako means red child. i’m not sorry. their names are funnier if you hc kuro’s hair is dyed (which i do), because then their parents had absolutely no reason to name them after that colour. i had hoped happiele named kuro for the red/black puns, but i think his name is actually kurou? damnit. 
> 
> some of you may know that _i_ also have a lion plushie (that i love and adore and named kuro). i wrote keito getting (human) kuro a lion way back in april before i got mine, so there’s no relation actually ww 
> 
> deleted scenes include imaginary baby keito lecturing someone specifically about gun safety _with a gun in his hands_ , and an extra epilogue where kuro sends keito a picture of his next sewing project (keito’s present) and keito screams. 
> 
> i wrote this fic for two reasons: i wanted krk to kiss under fireworks, and i once threatened to make a shitty kurokei AMV with the song sparks fly. clearly the anime got delayed to rob me of my power. 
> 
> if you ever feel bad for writing slowly, i first got the idea for krk firework kisses in dec 2016. it’s ok to take your time, i support you! ovo)b 
> 
> finally, thank you for reading! all the kudos and comments i get make me super happy aaa ; v ;


End file.
